Last night I started to work on the Malaria Express, writing down the beginning on a file folder. And this morning, as I was pen cleaning, I continued to work on it, in my head. I think it’s a good story, but it is never going to come to be. I need what I lack, sustained time to write, revise, and copy edit.

This one may be a goner, but there is hope. Now things in the former banquet room of the historic Eagle Hotel are really well organized, with most books now being taken care of. Today, Lois, who has been cleaning books for some time, her mother, Lois, and her daughter Abby came and gave an assist. This gave me time to assist Robert in figuring out his Saturday schedule. He has a lot going on and needed to postpone the BLBP board meeting.

Pete has pulled the cookbooks off of the shelf and says he is going to categorize them.

You’d think that I’d have more free time, but I am going to have to work on getting books out into the hands of appreciative readers. I’m also going to have to work on getting the literacy program going. Yes, I will have more time and perhaps Malaria Dreams will become a reality.

I now am in awe of any writer who gets a book published by a reputable publisher. This is because I know that hanging onto writing time takes considerable time and effort. This is why I opted not to have children. I do not have regrets about not having children, but I often think, well, others with children had productive writing lives. And, of course, Pete would have been supportive of my efforts.

Now look at me. I’m working hard to save the books of those writers who found the time to complete their writerly chores. Well, there must be a place in literary heaven for me. Picture it: a library with all the books ever published. You stand there and envision what you want, and an angel, in very short order, brings it to you. When you are done, the angel puts it back. And, of course, there are an infinite number of copies, so if 2,3,4 people want the same book, it’s available. There are harps playing, but no Kindles. And there is plenty of time to read, and very few, if any, distractions. Every so often an angel flies overhead, but this is a fleeting moment.

I just did not think that my life would go in this direction when this began, that is when I saved a handful of books. A tsunami of books seems to be coming at me, and there is no way of reversing the tide. This is the problem. There is no reversing the tide.

But those who are appreciative, that is really appreciative – they make every moment of this worth it.

Next: 224. 8/16/23: Over the Hump